Our God, the God of harmony and order, dearly loves what we call the "golden mean" or the "royal path." He, who holds the universe in balance, knows how difficult it is to find balance. And for us, people who do not possess His wisdom and vision, it is practically impossible not to slide into one of the extremes that open before us. This kind of tightrope walking is beyond our strength, especially since we are trying to walk this rope not as saints, leaving everything behind in trust in God, but with all the bundles of our own ideas about what is right and what is not, with all our cultural and other baggage. Perhaps these things are useful in some respects, but on the way to God they only cloud our sight. And then we become very much like the person in today's Gospel reading who approached Jesus second (see Matt. 8:21-22): it is very hard for us to part with what separates us from God.

This call, which appears cruel to many, to leave one's unburied father and follow Jesus, conveys very precisely what the Lord truly wants from us. He proposes that we not cling to this world, but, having weighed everything, renounce temptations and set out on the path toward happiness. Yet this must be done in a measured way, because against one extreme, not daring to follow Christ, there is always another: to run headlong without knowing where, making a mess in the process and deeply wounding those around us. Christ gently checks such an unbridled follower (see Matt. 8:19-20) and calls him to a measured decision.

It turns out that following God requires at the same time both radicalism, the resolve to follow Christ leaving everything behind, and a serious act of will, the utmost collectedness. What remains is to learn to find balance...

Historians of religion have often compared the prophets with reformers and even with revolutionaries. Sometimes, when reading passages like today's, it can indeed appear that before us is not the preaching of a man of God, but that of a true rebelling accuser. And yet this is not so. Every social reform and every revolution always begins with the desire to change the old, established order of life: economic, political, or social. And this desire is born from the conviction that a person really is capable of replacing the old, imperfect order with a new one that seems perfect to him, or at least better than the previous one.

But the prophet does not think that the goal of social activity should be some reform or the creation of a better society. He speaks of only one thing - violation of the Torah, the Law, given by God (v. 4). In fact, returning to the norms of life that correspond to the Torah is the only point of his prophetic 'reform program.'

At first glance, such an approach narrows both the reformer's freedom of action and the range of tasks before him. But no prophet ever set as his goal the establishment of social harmony in society. For Amos, following the commandments matters first of all because violating them destroys a person's relationship with God, and this is far from only the private affair of individual people. For if there are many such violators, they begin to hinder those who want and are ready to live a normal, full spiritual life (vv. 11-12) - and then the time of reckoning comes (vv. 13-16).

And the point is not that God takes revenge on someone for something. What matters to Him is not an abstract society or people, but a concrete person, with whom He forms concrete and always entirely unique relationships. Society can either help this or, on the contrary, hinder it. And if it begins to hinder it, then in God's eyes it loses all value, and then catastrophe becomes inevitable.

Today's reading brings us back once more to the main theme of all four Gospels: the theme of the Kingdom. Before us are two stories: the stilling of the storm (vv. 23-27) and the healing of the possessed, the demon-possessed (vv. 28-34). The events appear very different, since in one case Jesus is dealing with a force of nature, and in the other with people and dark powers. But in essence, in both cases the point is how the Kingdom of God, which Jesus bears in Himself, transforms the world around Him.

To those around Him it appears that He possesses some superhuman abilities or some special powers given Him by God, and that for this reason He can work miracles that no one else can work (v. 27). But in fact the issue is not powers or abilities. The world around Him is being transformed; that is why the storm grows calm and the demons cannot endure it and run away (v. 32). No power, not even the power of God, affects the world in this way: it can, of course, change many things in it, but in this case the point is no longer simply change, but complete transformation, so that the very laws of creation change. According to the laws of the untransformed world, a storm cannot grow calm without a cause. Strictly speaking, in that world it does not grow calm, but in the Kingdom there is no storm; and then everything depends on which reality the person in the midst of the storm becomes a participant in: the reality of the fallen world or the reality of the Kingdom. And here everything is determined only by faith, by trust in the One who brought this Kingdom into the world (v. 26).

But if there is no faith, even manifestations of the Kingdom by themselves will not replace it. This was the case with the Gergesene demoniacs: the manifestation of the Kingdom was plain, and the demons, naturally unable to endure it, felt this very quickly (v. 29). But with the people everything turned out to be less simple. It was hard not to believe the eyewitnesses' story (v. 33), but this story clearly made a paradoxical impression on the local residents: they asked Jesus to leave them in peace (v. 34). And the point was hardly that they felt sorry about the lost herd.

Of course, the inhabitants of those places were pagans and hardly thought much about the Messiah or the Kingdom. But they did understand one thing: Someone had entered their life and had brought in Something with which living as before would become impossible. If He remained among them, their whole life would change radically. And this, evidently, they did not want.

Here Jesus encountered the chief obstacle on His path: people's unwillingness to receive the Kingdom that He offers them. And then He leaves. For if a person refuses the Kingdom, the Savior has nothing more to give him.